Fallen Star
by TheGoldStandard
Summary: Life in Whiterun has steadily grown more peaceful since the rise of Kjordnarok Dragon-Blood, the legendary Dragonborn of legend. After three years, Ysolda has grown comfortable living in the Dovahkiin's protective shadow. When a stray Jedi crashes onto the planet of Nirn, however, will he change the world for the better, or bring the fist of Darth Vader down on Skyrim's citizens?
1. Chapter 1: Crash Landing

**Hello! A short disclaimer before the chapter: this first chapter will be a bit slower than the rest of the story for the sake of introducing the characters involved in the story. This tale** **will** **pick up more as the story goes on! Enjoy!**

* * *

Ysolda watched her frosty breath vaporize into the bitter Skyrim air as she strolled quietly down the road to Whiterun's main gate. The city's walls loomed over her head as she walked, her soft, fur boots scuffing the ground as she moved. The sun had set over an hour ago and the coming night was feverishly cold against her exposed skin. The slender, red-headed Nord had spent the entire day studying a new grain from Cyrodiil at one of the nearby farms, watching them care for and maintain the plants as they entered ripe harvesting days. In the coming weeks, supplies of the grain would filter into Whiterun's markets, and Ysolda wanted a close familiarity with the final product before it arrived.

"Of course, that only matters until Nazeem comes over the hill and undercuts all of our prices, like usual," she grumbled, pulling her woolen hat down onto her head a bit tighter. The local merchants struggled to produce as much food as Nazeem could, especially with the whole of Chillfurrow Farm working at his every whim. The pompous redguard was a man Ysolda couldn't stand to be near, especially with the way the established aristocrat talked down to her.

"He's the one that should be cast from the city and left by the gates, not the Khajiit," she murmured, wrapping her woolen scarf closer around her neck. Aside from her glove-protected hands, her soft, sensitive neck was always the coldest area of Ysolda's body, and on nights like tonight, it was unbearable to go without a scarf. Ysolda was careful to guard her health in times of approaching winter. Healing tonics form Arcadia's Cauldron grew highly expensive during the late winter months, and Ysolda's notoriously weak resistance to sicknesses was a potential, looming cost that she couldn't afford to pay this year.

Thanks to the Dragonborn, Kjordnarok Dragon-Blood, things weren't as bad as they'd been in years past. Before the legendary man had arrived Whiterun three years ago, Ysolda had been frightened to walk herself home from the Bannered Mare after dark. The Dragonborn's permanent residence in the city had discouraged bandit and dragon activity in the area, making it the safest hold in Skyrim. Even so, Ysolda patted the iron dagger resting comfortably around her slender hips with no small amount of worry. Anything could happen, especially to a woman caught alone after dark.

In the faint, darkened skyline, Ysolda's big, hazel eyes caught sight of a small flare of orange light lurking just behind a line of clouds hovering quietly over Skyrim's harsh landscape. A bit confused, the Nord woman brushed a strand of red hair out of her face and squinted into the distant skyline. After a few seconds, the bright object emerged from the clouds, streaking through the sky with higher intensity.

"What is that?" Ysolda frowned, standing on the tips of her toes to get a better view. The ball of fire didn't _look_ like a dragon. Whiterun hadn't seen a dragon attack since the incident at the Western Watchtower, three years ago. Could it be Kjordnarok? Was the Dragonborn training his skills in the far reaches of the countryside? After a few seconds, Ysolda finally noticed that the distant fireball was growing ever-so-slightly in _size_ , not intensity. A split second later, her eyes widened in horror.

"Is… is that thing coming closer?" she breathed, taking a few tentative steps back down the path to her rear. "Oh! By the Divines!" In a panic, Ysolda rushed to the nearest rock and threw herself behind it, tucking her knees underneath her chin and wincing as the enormous fireball smashed into the ground and skidded many paces away, ripping up earth and stone as it went. A terrible shriek of metal and rock screamed through the night air, for several seconds, and Ysolda placed her hands over her ears to block out the sharp, painful noise. After a few seconds of scraping a clattering, the fireball came to a stop at the end of a long, freshly dug ditch at the side of the road.

Ysolda's eyes popped open after a few seconds of terrified silence. Tentatively, the slender woman clambered to her feet and wiped the dirt from her wool dress, gazing uncertainly at the hunk of metal and rubble at the end of the fireball's crash site. Small fires burned all around and on top of the ragged object, warping around ripped pieces of metal and holes in the outside of the angled object. Several small plumes of smoke trailed lazily into the clouded sky. Gradually, the sound of metal objects clanging to the rocky soil ground to a halt, and only the sound of the crackling fires remained in the quiet Skyrim countryside.

Ysolda huddled behind her rock uncertainly, urging herself to return to the city and let the guards handle this new development. Even so, her curiosity slowly began to override her better judgment, and she took several cautious steps toward the fallen object. As she approached, Ysolda noticed a faint blinking light hidden behind a strange pane of glass that occupied most of the front of the foreign metal object. Carefully stepping a fur boot onto the side of the burning body of iron, she peered closer into the interior of the cockpit, clouded as it was by smoke. The green light flashed again, blinking stubbornly in the ruined hunk of shredded metal. Ysolda squinted harder, placing a hand on the outside of the cockpit and leaning in closer to get a better look. The light blinked again after a few seconds, bathing a human face in faint green light before fading away once more.

"By the Divines!" Ysolda gasped, knocking on the glass. "Are you alright, in there?"

She received no response from the passenger within. After a few seconds, the light blinked once more, illuminating the stranger's face again and confirming Ysolda's suspicions. There was a _human being_ inside of this strange metal container. Ysolda quickly realized that the interior of the foreign vessel was filling with smoke very fast, clouding her vision even more. The next time the light blinked, she couldn't make out the stranger's face at all.

Realizing the danger to this person's life, Ysolda stepped back off the vessel and onto the ground, scouring the surrounding grass for a rock, or a hard piece of wood, anything to break the glass and pull the individual out of that _deathtrap_. Finding a large stone that she could lift just a few paces away, Ysolda grabbed the stone in both hands and hoisted it above her head with a grunt of effort, slamming the rock onto the center of the glass pane as hard as she could. O her dismay, the stone bounced harmlessly off of the glass and rattled back into the grass.

"Come on, Ysolda," she grunted, reaching back to the rock and lifting it back over her head. "You can do this. Ma and Da didn't raise a milkdrinker."

Ysolda heaved the rock into the glass once more with a cry of effort, covering her head as the window shattered into a hundred shards. Ysolda coughed through the smoke and covered her mouth and nose with her scarf before stepping a foot into the cockpit, being very careful to keep her wool dress out of the fires lurking nearby. The man inside the cockpit, at closer glance, looked to be in rough shape. A significant cut on his forehead leaked red blood over his face and matted his short brown hair. Blood trailed from his lip and into his rough goatee. His light skin was bruised and cut all over as if he'd been mauled by a bear.

"Excuse me!" she called, gently shaking his shoulder with two hands. After a few moments, the passenger stirred, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and opening his eyes.

"What…" he murmured, his blue eyes glancing around the interior of his ship uncomfortably. "What happened?"

"You just… fell out of the sky," Ysolda answered, smiling warmly. "Are you alright?"

"I… I think so," he nodded, meeting her gaze earnestly. "Is my ship on fire?"

"By 'ship' do you mean the enormous hunk of metal you're currently trapped in?"

"Yes."

"Then, yes," she nodded. "It's on fire."

"Wonderful," he muttered, raising a tired arm and deactivating a few buttons and switches. "We'd best get to a safe distance."

"Do you need any help getting out?" Ysolda asked, offering her hand to him. The pilot unbuckled his restraints and attached a strange metal cylinder to his belt before attempting to stand. Immediately, his strength gave out, and he dropped back into his seat with a grunt.

"Yes," he grimaced, holding his leg in pain. Taking Ysolda's gloved hand, the pilot pushed himself up with his arms and stumbled out of the open cockpit, being very careful to avoid the jagged edges of glass jutting out from the side of the broken window. Ysolda placed her arm under his shoulder and helped him step down and into the grass alongside his ship, keeping him close enough to the fire to stay warm, but far enough to avoid any potential danger.

"Ysolda!" In the distance, Kjornarok Dragon-Blood, and his personal housecarl, Lydia, came running down the grassy slope. Several Whiterun guards followed at the Dragonborn's heels, several clearly having just been roused from deep sleep.

"What happened here?" Kjord asked, stooping to his knees next to the stranger's side and checking him for serious injury.

"I was walking down the road to come home," she answered, moving aside so that Kjord could work. "He just… fell from the sky in that metal… thing."

"Are you hurt?" Kjord asked, rubbing his thick brown beard as he concentrated.

"No," Ysolda answered. "I was almost hit when he crashed, but I managed to avoid it."

"That's good to hear," Kjord nodded. "Erkon, I need you to fetch Danica from the Temple of Kynareth. Tell her it's urgent."

"Yes, Dragonborn," a guard nodded, turning around and rushing back up the hill towards the city.

"Ysolda," Kjord called, waving the woman closer with a powerful hand. "Did you pull this man out of that vessel?"

"Yes," she answered, her gaze never leaving the injured pilot. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Kjord snorted, "you did exactly what you were supposed to do. I'm going to have Lydia take you home, now. Try to get some rest. I'll take care of things here."

"Are you sure?" Ysolda inquired.

"I'm sure," he nodded, offering the woman an encouraging smile and pushing his brown hair back into place. "You've done all you can, here."

"Alright," she relented, following behind Lydia as the black-haired housecarl started back up the hill. As she walked away, however, she couldn't help but meet the sick, injured eyes of the man lying prone in the dirt as he watched her walk away. Even as Lydia engaged her in friendly conversation, Ysolda couldn't get that image out of her mind.

Sleep came very slowly to her that night.

* * *

"Ah, Ysolda, was it?" Nazeem smirked, placing his hands on his hips. The redguard knew her name perfectly well, but the aristocrat chose to ignore it for the sake of upsetting her. Ysolda took in a deep breath and stared up at the bright, clear, sky; doing her best to ignore the pompous man's thinly veiled insult. The crowded Whiterun market was bustling and crowded with bodies in the middle of the day, each family coming to buy food for that evening.

"What brings you to the market?" Nazeem prompted, his delighted grin growing wide. Ysolda slammed her basket of bread and fruit on the hardwood surface of the empty stall in front of her.

"I'm here to buy food, Nazeem," she snapped, barely keeping her frustration contained as she turned to glare at him directly in the face. "I suppose you wouldn't have to worry about that."

"Owning a farm does have its advantages," Nazeem chuckled, waving her irritated glare away and strolling up the hill towards Dragonsreach. Ysolda clenched her jaw in anger at the redguard nobleman's overwhelming arrogance and felt a wave of belittlement and resentment bubble through her blood. She _hated_ it when people talked down to her like that, and she especially hated when they did it just to toy with her.

A faint whistle caught her ear from across the market, and Ysolda turned and locked eyes with her friend Carlotta. Carlotta Valentia stood behind her tiny stall with her daughter Mila, both witnesses to the entire encounter. Carlotta offered her younger friend an encouraging smile, raising her arms from the edge of her food stand and gesturing to Ysolda to calm herself. Ysolda brushed a strand of red hair from her face and glanced down at Mila's curious eyes, staring intently in expectation of Ysolda's reaction.

 _She's watching how I react_ , Ysolda realized, turning back to her basket and gently lifting it from the edge of the wooden stall. She took a deep breath and elegantly fixed her hair with all the dignity she could muster. Walking confidently toward Carlotta's stall, Ysolda pushed a bright smile onto her face and winked at Mila.

"I know, he's a boar of a person," Carlotta sighed, handing Ysolda a ripe, bright apple as friendly consolation.

"It'll take more than a few sharp words to get any true reaction out of me," Ysolda stated, looking meaningfully at Carlotta's daughter. "Nord women are stronger than that."

"I'll raise a mug to that," Carlotta chuckled. "Speaking of strong women, I hear you did some heavy lifting last night."

"How do you mean?" Ysolda frowned.

"Don't be daft," Carlotta smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. "I got wind that you saved that man who fell from the sky, just last night."

"I didn't do that much," Ysolda smiled, fidgeting awkwardly.

"That's not what Lydia told me this morning," Carlotta corrected. "She told Fralia Gray-Mane and I that you smashed a pane of glass with a rock and dragged him out a burning pile of metal all on your own. She says that by the time she and Kjord arrived, you'd already started caring for him."

"Lydia exaggerates," Ysolda insisted, her cheeks growing a bit rosier, and not just from the brisk wind that blew through the city streets.

"Have you seen that man since last night?" Carlotta inquired.

"No," Ysolda admitted. "I figured Danica would have had enough problems without me annoying her."

"You should go up to the Temple of Kynareth and check on him," Carlotta suggested, jerking her head toward the Winds District. "I guarantee he'd appreciate seeing the face of the woman who rescued him one more time."

"Very funny," Ysolda snorted. As she stared at the stairs leading to the Winds District, however, she couldn't help but feel that Carlotta was right. Maybe seeing him on the mend would do her some good to rest her anxious nerves. Besides, he could probably use a friendly face after such a chaotic event.

"Mila is spending the night with the Battle-Born family tonight,' Carlotta interjected, interrupting Ysolda's thoughts. "I'll be in the Bannered Mare late tonight if you want to join. I'll be closing up shop in a few hours."

"I'll be there," Ysolda smiled, waving goodbye to Mila as she strolled up the stairs to the Wind District. Passing under the blooming Gildergleam's flowered leaves, Ysolda waved a greeting to Aela the Huntress as the Companion passed by along the other side of the tree. Aela merely nodded in her direction. Any kind of special kindness was probably beyond the dominatingly athletic woman and her shield-siblings, at least for townspeople. She probably thought Ysolda was merely just another milkdrinker, all things considered.

"Ysolda!" Danica called, standing just outside the main entrance to the elegant Temple of Kynareth. Sweeping the dust off the temple steps, the middle-aged woman seemed almost giddy with excitement. With the sudden increase in injuries in the hold, particularly in the last few years since the beginning of the Dragon Crisis, Danica's time became increasingly devoted to healing the injured and sick rather than maintaining her temple. The priestess' face shone with such happiness when she spent time caring for the monument dedicated to her favorite Divine.

"Hello, Danica!" Ysolda smiled, quickly crossing the distance separating the two women. "I was just looking for you, actually."

"Come to visit the young lad from last night, I assume?" Danica smiled, setting her broom against the wall of the temple.

"Is he doing well?" Ysolda nodded.

"Oh, he's doing better than 'fine,' dear," Danica chuckled. "He's taken to my treatment better than any other I've seen. Even Kjordnarok doesn't heal as well as this boy did, and he's got the blood of a dragon in his veins."

"I'm glad to hear he's alright," Ysolda smiled, following Danica into the temple's main room. The expansive chamber featured four shallow pits of water, separated by a crossway of walkways. A few beds lay on either side of the room for healing and treatment, but none contained the young man from last night.

"He's got a nervousness about him," Danica continued, walking easily down the crossway and dipping a finger into the cool water. "I can't say I blame him for being anxious, especially after surviving a disaster like last night. I can't help but get the impression that he doesn't feel safe, however. It's as if he expects every new face he sees to stab him in the heart. I told him to get ready for a walk around the city just to help him calm down and get some steps under his feet. By and large, I expect him to be ready to leave the temple for good today. I'll be sad to see him go; he's such wonderful company. He's a real talker once you get him going."

"Who will be taking him out?" Ysolda inquired, glancing around the room.

"I'll have Jennson do it," Danica shrugged. "The man's been driving me crazy. For so long, all we've had time for is healing, and now that Kjordnarok has ensured there's no healing needed, Jennson is off his head. Says temple life is getting boring."

"I could take him out for a walk around the city," Ysolda suggested.

"Oh, Jennson isn't the kind for walking," Danica chuckled, standing fully erect.

"I wasn't talking about Jennson," Ysolda gently corrected, smiling to herself.

"Oh!" Danica hummed, grinning widely. "I'm off my head as well, it would seem! I'd love to let you take our new friend out for the day! You're very kind to do so. If more people had hearts as big as yours, this city would be a better place."

"Where is he at?" Ysolda inquired, suddenly a bit eager to get going.

"He's just in the side room," Danica explained, waving her younger friend to a far wall. "The temple was empty when he got here, so we could afford to give him more space." Danica knocked once on the door.

"Come in!" a voice called from the inside. Danica pulled the sliding door open to reveal the pilot from the previous night, resting comfortably on the side of his bed. The cuts and gashes that had covered his body had healed wonderfully and showed no sign of scarring. The blood had been washed from his face and body, revealing a smooth, light tone to his skin. His messy brown hair and beard had been cleaned and sorted neatly. His blue eyes were wide and alert with the energy of life. The moment he saw Ysolda, the stranger stood from the side of his bed and smiled.

"It's you!" he grinned, stepping closer to the door.

"I felt like coming to see you would be a good idea," Ysolda explained, smiling in her own right. "I wanted to see how you'd recovered."

"I probably look to be in a lot better shape than last night, thanks to Danica," he shrugged, nodding his appreciation to the priestess standing over Ysolda's shoulder. "I don't believe I ever thanked you for last night… or even got your name."

"I'm Ysolda," she smiled, shaking his hand. "I live here in the city."

"I'm Tyber Onteron," he responded. "I… do not."

"And for a good reason, I say," Danica chuckled, playfully slapping Tyber on the shoulder. "This lad ate me out of house and home this morning."

"Am I going on my lively stroll around the city?" Tyber inquired, lacing up his boots. His strange, light robes, belted at the waist, fit his figure cleanly. They reminded Ysolda of the bright oak trees growing all around Riverwood, the one time her family had made the trip.

"Ysolda has volunteered to give you a bit of a tour," Danica nodded. "Be nice to her while you're out, and don't overexert yourself. If you start feeling tired, come back at once."

"Do you have my lightsaber?" Tyber requested, glancing into the temple's main room.

"It's in my chest," Danica nodded, swiftly moving to the other side of the temple to fetch it.

"What's a lightsaber?" Ysolda frowned.

"It's a sword," Tyber answered. "It's just… more powerful."

"Here you are," Danica smiled, placing a strange metal cylinder into Tyber's outstretched hands. "Strangest weapon I've ever seen. Doesn't even have a blade."

"It's an acquired taste," Tyber chuckled, following Danica to the door. Ysolda followed close behind, stepping out behind the duo and into the crisp Skyrim afternoon air.

"Don't get into trouble while you're gone," Danica teased, waving Ysolda and Tyber farewell and closing the door behind them.

"Right," Ysolda smiled, "follow me. I'll show you around."

"Thank you for doing so," Tyber smirked. "This place looks a whole lot different than the place I grew up."

"Where did you grow up?" Ysolda inquired, her curiosity getting the better of her. Tyber hesitated a slight moment before answering; as if considering what to say.

"I grew up quite a long way from here," he shrugged, a knowing smirk on his lips.

"Does this 'quite a long way from here' have a name?" Ysolda urged, strolling past the House Battle-Born and down the steps to the Plains District.

"Coruscant," Tyber nodded.

"I've never heard of it," Ysolda frowned. "What's it like in Coruscant?"

"It's got lots of… forests," Tyber tentatively exhaled. Again, there was a slight moment of hesitation. "Rivers and natural mountain cliffs are everywhere. Not many cities to speak of. It's a relatively out-of-the-way place to live."

"Is that where you came from?" Ysolda asked.

"I was actually fleeing that place, as a matter of fact," Tyber stated, gazing at Whiterun's main gate as he walked by. Strolling through town earned him a few more stares than he'd wanted, and he was beginning to feel a bit anxious.

"Do you not get along with your family?" Ysolda inquired, brushing her hand along a clump of flowers near the road.

"We just got a new ruler," Tyber carefully enunciated, being very deliberate in his wording. "He doesn't seem to like my people and me very much. He forced us from our homes and scattered us into the… countryside. Those who stayed are probably dead, now."

"I'm sorry to hear that,' Ysolda murmured. "I'm sure you'll find better luck here in Skyrim. Although, you'd have better luck if you told the truth."

"I'm… sorry?" Tyber winced. Ysolda stopped in her tracks and placed her hands on her hips, a knowing smirk growing on her lips.

"I'll be _very_ kind when I say this: a Nord knows a liar when she sees one," she asserted. "If you want to keep your story to yourself, I have no problem with that. All I ask is that you don't feed me horker skin while you do it."

"I'm… I'm sorry," Tyber sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "I'm just a bit on edge. I have no idea where I am or who I can trust."

"All is forgiven," Ysolda nodded, graciously turning on her heels and continuing along the path. "Now, if you want to learn where you are, follow along. I'll show you the way. As for who to trust… you can start with me."

* * *

"And that building on the hill is Jorvasskr, mead hall of the Companions," Ysolda stated, gesturing to a curved building on the side of the road. Tyber glanced at the hall through the evening light and frowned deeply.

"It looks like someone just flipped a ship upside down and began drinking in it," he snorted.

"Yes," Ysolda smirked, the light of humor in her eye. Tyber's upper lip curled in abject confusion, but his next question was stalled by an approaching guard.

"You, there!" the armored soldier called. "Are you the man who fell from the sky, last night?"

"I'm the man who had a _very rough landing_ , last night," Tyber corrected. "But, yes. I'm your man."

"The jarl has requested your presence in Dragonsreach," the guard replied, pointing to the huge wooden palace at the very highest hill in Whiterun. "I'm to bring you there, now."

"Alright," Tyber nodded, turning to Ysolda with a grateful smile. "I appreciate the tour, Ysolda. Thank you for showing such kindness to a stranger."

"You're not a stranger any longer," she corrected, extending her slender hand. "If you need anything else, just let me know. I live in the Plains District, just by the far wall."

"I will," he nodded, clasping her hand appreciatively. "Thank you."

Ysolda gave one last warm smile before turning away and strolling down the street, making her way to the lower parts of the city. Tyber watched her go before following the armored guard up the steps to the Cloud District. Dragonsreach was a rather impressive structure, especially for one built almost entirely out of wood. The towering palace loomed majestically over the city in the fading light, casting a long shadow over the plains surrounding the city. The large double doors groaned open on iron hinges, granting access to the expansive, warm, high-ceilinged hall within. A roaring fire in the center of the main chamber showered the room with heat and light. At the very top of the long building, perched at the peak of several sets of wooden stairs, the Jarl sat, patiently waiting with a small group of people at his side. Tyber recognized a few of them as he approached.

The one they called 'Dragonborn,' a thickly built, bearded man named Kjordnarok, stood high and tall to the side of the Jarl's throne. Beside him, his raven-haired housecarl, Lydia remained faithfully by his side, her green eyes keeping a close eye on Tyber's movements. There were a few others near the Jarl that Tyber failed to recognize, but he made a mental note to learn their names at the earliest possible convenience.

"You are the man that fell from the sky, is that right?" the Jarl spoke, his booming voice echoing off the high walls. Tyber stiffened a bit in wounded pride but refused to make the same correction he'd issued the Jarl's guard moments earlier.

"Yes, sir," he nodded, taking up a relaxed, welcoming posture.

"Indeed," the Jarl nodded. "I should not hesitate to remind you that you nearly killed one of my subjects in the process of your… descent. Not many pass through this city with Ysolda's heart. She may not be very wealthy, but her spirit would be a greater loss for this city that she realizes, and I _will_ take care of my people."

"I understand, sir," Tyber nodded. "I apologize. I meant no harm. Truthfully, I don't remember much about the crash. If I had my way, Ysolda wouldn't have been threatened in the first place. I wouldn't have come near the city in the first place."

"I assume you've come from a long way?" the Jarl inquired, taking Tyber's nod of affirmation at face value. The blonde-haired man stroked his beard for a few moments before gesturing to Kjord, at his side. "My thane, Kjordnarok Dragon-Blood, has advised that I take no action of recourse against you. He argues that there was no ill intent in the act and that such an accident, especially since Ysolda was not harmed, should go unpunished. More than most, he understands the pain of being punished for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps he is right."

"My steward, Proventus, however," he continued, gesturing to a balding man dressed in fine robes at his right hand, "argues the opposite. He states that a channel of land was ruined by your interference and that you should face a fine for threatening young Ysolda's life in such a dangerous manner. If not a fine, then jail time. My question to you is this: what would you do in my stead? If you had to render judgment in this situation, how would you choose?"

"You are… the ruler of your territory, sir," Tyber carefully answered. "I hope you choose to spare me any retribution for my unwilling intrusion into your lives, but I also understand that you have the authority to do so, should you wish. I was once a man of authority myself. I told soldiers to come, and they would come, and I told men to go, and they would obey. I ask for the result that honors your title."

"Well said," the Jarl nodded, his lips pursing in consideration. "What if I chose to offer you honorable mercy in return for your conduct, here, today?"

"I've done little in my life worth honoring, sir" Tyber stated.

"All the same," the Jarl insisted, "I hereby grant you clemency from your actions last night. You will not be punished for your… accident."

'Thank you, sir," Tyber smiled, bowing appreciatively.

"What will you do now that you are in good health once more?" the Jarl inquired.

"I… I suppose I'll take up refuge here, for a time," Tyber shrugged. "I'll need to examine the remains of my ship and see what I can salvage from the crash."

"You should offer him shelter," Lydia whispered, leaning closer to Kjordnarok. "He clearly has no money with which to pay for a place to stay. He'll freeze otherwise."

"We don't have room at Breezehome," Kjord replied. "Otherwise, I would gladly take him in."

"It's only the two of us staying there," Lydia frowned. "Let him have the spare bed."

"I think he could use a space all to his own," Kjord insisted. "Besides, we've got too many things to… take care of tonight."

"Is that so?" Lydia smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Alright. If nothing else, at least get him a room at the 'Mare or something."

"Good idea," Kjord nodded, stepping forth and attracting Jarl Balgruuf's attention. "Might I offer a suggestion, my Jarl?" Ordinarily, the two men would have spoken cordially, as friends and equals, but here, in the Jarl's court, Balgruuf was to be addressed by his title.

"Of course," Balgruuf nodded, turning to face his most prized advisor.

"If it pleases you, why not provide him patronage?" Kjord suggested, gesturing to Tyber. "This man has gone out of his way to make amends for his mistakes and right his wrongs. Why not send a definitive message that such people are treated with honor within the walls of Whiterun?"

"A noble idea," Jarl Balgruuf nodded. "I'm in a generous mood today. Proventus, see to it that this man is given a warm bed and hot food at the Bannered Mare. Tell Hulda to bill Dragonsreach for his expenses. I'm sure our friend here will find some way to repay this kindness."

"Absolutely, sir," Tyber nodded, eagerly bowing his agreement. "I'm sure I could be of some use to you in the future."

"Very well," Jarl Balgruuf, nodded, rising from his throne. "I'm going to have a good drink. Divines know I need it on a cold night, like tonight."

* * *

"Mikael is looking at you again." Carlotta glanced over the rim of her mug with a fire in her eyes that would have melted all the snows on Skyrim's mountain peaks. The Bannered Mare was bustling tonight, and most tables were filled entirely. The large firepit in the center of the room burned hot and bright, giving warmth to the entire building. Hulda stood behind a counter on the far side of the inn, directing her barmaid, Saadia, on which customers to serve next. Ysolda and Carlotta had picked a table near the doorway to eat and drink together, hoping that Mikael would be too distracted with his performances to notice them in the back of the building.

"Milkdrinker," she muttered, taking another swig of ale. Sure enough, the insufferable bard was staring directly at her without a hint of shame in his eyes. In fact, Carlotta wouldn't have been surprised if he was doing it on purpose.

"Why do we always come here?" Ysolda sighed, shaking her head. "He just hovers over us the entire time."

"He'd do the same thing at the Drunken Huntsman," Carlotta shrugged. "At least there's a guard nearby at all times here at the 'Mare. Besides, I thought you liked his voice."

"I did," Ysolda admitted. "That was several years ago, though; before I knew how he treated you. Before I read that _horrid_ book of his, too."

"'A real masterpiece, that one," Carlotta snorted. Just then, the main door swung open, admitting a Whiterun guard in full armor. Just behind the guard, Tyber strolled quietly into the building as well, gazing curiously at the patrons around him.

"Mm!" Ysolda hummed, swallowing a gulp of mead and jamming her finger into Carlotta's ribs.

"Ouch!" the older woman hissed, holding her side in pain. "Gods, Ysolda, that hurt!"

"Shush!" Ysolda whispered, jerking her head in Tyber's direction. "That's him! That's the man from last night!"

"Really?" Carlotta murmured, a wide grin growing on her face as she took the newcomer in. "This is the infamous 'Tyber Onteron?' He's a lot younger than I thought he'd be. Handsome little thing, though, isn't he?"

"Shush!" Ysolda pleaded, clamping a hand over Carlotta's mouth. Carlotta quietly laughed into Ysolda's palm, watching curiously as Tyber stood awkwardly nearby as the guard explained the situation to Hulda.

"There shouldn't be a problem," the innkeeper nodded. "I'll see that he's taken care of."

"Good," the guard hummed, strolling towards the door. "I'll inform the jarl."

"Your room is just up those stairs," Hulda informed Tyber, pointing the young man towards the back staircase and handing him the key. "Saadia will get you food when you're hungry or drink when you have a thirst to be quenched. If you need anything else, just let me know."

"Thank you," Tyber smiled, turning to take in the loud, hot room. The resident bard had launched into song and had the entire room in chorus, his shoulder-length blonde hair bouncing in time with the rhythm. At the very back of the room, Tyber caught sight of Ysolda's smiling face, waving for him to join her and another woman at the table.

"Here he comes," Ysolda grinned, sliding her chair to the side to give Tyber room to sit down.

"Fancy seeing you, here," he teased, obviously delighted to see a familiar face once more. Carlotta raised an eyebrow at Tyber's words, but a quick glare from Ysolda convinced her to keep her thoughts to herself.

"I'm glad you could join us!" Ysolda stated. "I hope I didn't get you into any trouble with Jarl Balgruuf."

"Nothing of the sort, actually," Tyber admitted, easing into the open chair between the two women. "He was very understanding. Kjordnarok helped clear things up a bit. It looks like I'll be staying here for a little while, as a matter of fact."

"Well, in that case, I'd say its time to start laying down some roots," Ysolda chirped, gesturing across the table to her friend. "This is Carlotta Valentia. She's one of my closest friends here in the city."

"A pleasure to meet you," Carlotta smiled, shaking Tyber's hand. "I already know your name."

"That fast?" Tyber snorted.

"You fell from the sky in a giant metal container," Carlotta smirked, raising her mug to her lips. "It'd honestly be a little difficult to _not_ know your name, at this point."

"I hope that passes quickly," Tyber cringed. "I'm not one to attract attention."

"Speaking of attracting attention…" Ysolda murmured, suddenly finding something of grave interest in her mug.

"Carlotta Valentia!" Mikael grinned, placing a hand on the widow's shoulder. "Did you enjoy my last performance? I had the entire inn rolling in song like a ship on the crystal waters of the northern sea!"

"How very thoughtful of you to remind me," Carlotta sighed, tapping on the table in frustration.

"I would like to take this moment to offer you a song in your honor," Mikael smoothly grinned. "I want your heart to glimmer with love for me as I sing you into the very arms of Sovngarde!"

"It's a hard pass," Carlotta sighed, clenching her jaw.

"A sour mood, I see," Mikael mused. "I will lift your spirits by singing you a song of my own creation!"

"You don't want to sing her a song of your own creation," Tyber corrected, waving his hand a few inches over the table.

"I don't want to sing her a song of my own creation," Mikael agreed, removing his hand from Carlotta's shoulder. The two women at the table exchanged surprised glances at the bard's words.

"You want to leave Carlotta alone for the rest of the evening," Tyber stated, not even meeting the bard's gaze.

"I want to leave Carlotta alone for the rest of the evening," Mikael concurred, turning around and strolling back to his instrument. Sure enough, he picked up his lute and began strumming his way into a favorite folk song within seconds, ignoring Carlotta and Ysolda completely. Carlotta met Tyber's gaze and placed a grave hand on his shoulder.

"I will pay you to follow me around and do that all day," Carlotta stated, her eyes growing deadly serious.

"How did you do that?" Ysolda asked, staring in dumbfounded shock at Mikael's happy, ignorant face.

"I'm just an all-powerful sorcerer of the dark arts," Tyber shrugged, leaning back in his seat and chuckling when Ysolda and Carlotta both glared at him with immense skepticism. "One might say mind reading is a specialty of mine."

"It's not polite to tease a lady," Ysolda smirked, crossing her legs and easing back into her chair.

"No, no," Tyber corrected, "not teasing. Mind reading."

"Prove it," Carlotta snorted, placing her mug on the table and gazing at the younger man intently. "You've never met me before today. If you can really read minds, tell me what I'm thinking."

"Alright," Tyber chuckled, placing his elbows on the table and adjusting his chair to face Carlotta more directly. Carlotta forced her face to remain entirely neutral, clearly making a supreme effort to stay unreadable. After a few seconds of thought, Tyber finally spoke.

"You're not from Skyrim," Tyber concluded.

"Correct. Where from?" Carlotta prompted.

"Cyrodiil," Tyber mumbled. "I'm not sure where that is, but you grew up there with your parents and your older brother. The reason why I say that is because you and your brother were very close when you were young. Unforeseen circumstances caused you to move to Skyrim… a surprising marriage proposal, perhaps."

"That's very good," Carlotta hummed, throwing a rather impressed look Ysolda's direction. "My husband wasn't someone my parents approved of, hence the move to Skyrim to gain some distance between us."

"Which, of course," Tyber continued, "created a rift between yourself and your brother."

"Maybe," Carlotta nodded, "but that's not what I was thinking of."

"No," Tyber agreed, "You weren't. You were thinking of a name. The name of a person you loved dearer than almost any other but haven't seen in years because you've been separated by a great distance. Someone nobody in this town would know."

"No…" Carlotta exhaled, leaning back in her chair.

"I believe your brother's name is… Varnicus," Tyber finished. Carlotta's face went as white as a sheet.

"I… I don't understand…" she sputtered.

"I'm just glad you didn't think of something suitably embarrassing like the last person that asked me to read their mind," Tyber chuckled, placing a hand on Carlotta's shoulder to ease her nerves. "Rule number one when it comes to dealing with mind readers: _never_ think of the last place you committed adultery while your wife is present."

"That's… unbelievable." Carlotta stated, shaking her head in disbelief. "Even _Mila_ doesn't know my brother's name."

"I didn't know you even had one, to begin with," Ysolda laughed.

"Before I forget," Tyber added, "please don't take that trick too seriously. There's no black magic involved or anything like that. The last thing I need is the jarl coming down the hill and throwing me in jail for a misunderstanding."

"How is it done, then?" Ysolda prompted.

"I'm just good at reading people," Tyber shrugged. Ysolda raised a skeptical eyebrow at his words, raising her mug to her lips and taking a short drink of mead.

"Read me," Ysolda demanded, setting her mug back on the table.

"Read your mind?" Tyber smirked.

"No," Ysolda shook her head, "read me."

"I'm afraid I don't- " Tyber began, chuckling in confusion.

"If you're that skilled at reading people, I shouldn't have to give you any help," Ysolda challenged, brushing a strand of red hair from her face. "Tell me everything you can about me at just a glance."

"As you wish," Tyber said at length, easing his chair to the side to face her. Ysolda met his concentrated stare without wavering, almost daring him to enter her mind and dig up her secrets. Strangely enough, she began to feel a slight sensation in the back of her consciousness, almost as if something was actually digging around in her head. Tyber eventually broke off his stare and leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head and grinning easily.

"There's quite a bit in that mind of yours to unpack," Tyber stated, looking a bit too comfortable in his own right. "You have a rather strong mind, that I can tell you, right now."

"Gee, thanks," Carlotta smirked, feigning an angry expression. Tyber snorted at the teasing comment and refocused his attention on Ysolda's hazel eyes, still staring at him intently.

"I'm going to say this gently, since I don't know what this number involves," Tyber grimaced, sitting forward and placing a calm, earnest expression on his features. "Does the 12th of Sun's Dawn, the 196th year of the 4th Era mean anything to you?"

Ysolda's jaw dropped in shock, and her eyebrows drew closer together in remembrance. In a state of complete surprise, her eyes fell to the floor, clouded by memories gone by. Carlotta frowned deeply at the younger woman's reaction, glancing back and forth between Tyber's sympathetic expression and Ysolda's troubled gaze.

"Ysolda?" she murmured. "Are you alright?"

"I'm… I'm fine," Ysolda nodded, meeting Tyber's eyes once more. His blue stare was full of compassion and understanding that she couldn't understand. "That's… that's the day my Ma and Da passed away."

"No," Carlotta breathed, placing her hands over her mouth in shock.

"I'm sorry if I've upset you by bringing it up," Tyber apologized, twiddling his thumbs.

"No," Ysolda smiled, looking him square in the face. "It's alright. I'm more impressed than anything else, actually."

"I'm just good at what I do," he shrugged. After a few moments, he stood from the table and fingered the lightsaber at his belt.

"Something the matter?" Carlotta inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Tyber answered, his eyes glued to the door. "I just… need to check something."

"Alright," Ysolda hummed, her smile fading a bit. "If we don't catch you before we leave tonight, we'll see you around."

"See you around," he agreed, smiling warmly at the pair before striding to the doors and out into the cold night. Tyber stepped into the empty street and pulled his robes a little tighter around him as the cold air whistled by his face. Walking casually down the road, he kept his eyes peeled for the house he knew Kjordnarok and his housecarl lived in. Breezehome, he believed it was called. Sure enough, just down the street lay the comfortable home, right where Ysolda had shown him that afternoon. Tyber stopped in front of the house and closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force and searching for any kind of ripple or disturbance in the home. Sure enough, he could feel Kjordnarok's presence inside. The Dragonborn was powerful. Surprisingly powerful, as a matter of fact.

Tyber reached farther into the Dragonborn with the Force, trying to glean what little he could from the mighty warrior's mind. Kjord's mental strength was very high, which made it difficult to read his feelings and thoughts. Even so, there was undoubtedly a myriad of layers to the hero of Whiterun. There was a great deal of pain and suffering that accompanied the achievements and bonds in Kjordnarok's subconscious. A mixed puzzle of darkness and light, just like most men of power. All the same, Tyber couldn't help but focus on the connections Kjord had forged in his life. He could feel Kjord's strong feelings for his friends: the members of the Companions, Jarl Balgruuf, wizards in far-off colleges, and thieves in the sewers. His housecarl, Lydia, who he held closer than anyone else, remained central to his spirit.

Tyber turned away from the house and gazed into the stars, shining high above the world. Every passing moment, he feared that Darth Vader and a legion of stormtroopers would descend from orbit and chase him from his hiding place once more. The Emperor's new right-hand man was unlike anything Tyber had ever encountered. When the Sith Lord was near, he could feel nothing but pure, unadulterated, unrestrained hatred. Hatred for the Jedi, for people who displeased him, and even his master. However, most of all, in the brief moments when Tyber had encountered the black-armored Sith, he could sense something infinitely more powerful: Vader's hatred for himself.

Tyber turned away from the clear night sky and walked to the edge of Whiterun's wall, gazing out over the bountiful plains of the hold. Perhaps death would be the Force's way of keeping him in check. If Tyber were dead, there would be no darkness to fall into, no internal self-loathing to burn the light in his heart. There would be no innocent casualties in the way if he merely leaped from the wall. Even if the Empire found this world, deep in the heart of unexplored space, Tyber knew Skyrim's natives would fare better without him than with him.

Still, there was a small hope. Maybe Tyber could remain here, in exile, safe from the turmoil of the galaxy. He could find a new life here, amongst these people, and spend his life putting a tiny corner of the universe back together, rather than being the reason it was taken apart. Whiterun was quiet. Where was the harm in finally throwing down roots after a lifetime of war? Tyber smiled softly to himself.

Maybe, of all places in the universe he could have crashed into, this was where he was meant to be.

* * *

 **Hello, everyone! Thanks for taking the time to read my story! This is something I've been pondering over for several years, now, and I finally decided to write it out after finding nothing else of this specific subject on the site! I'm open to any comments and reviews left by you, and I promise to take your feedback with the seriousness it deserves. Please, enjoy my work, leave a favorite and a follow to stay updated, because I plan to keep this story going for a while! Thank you for your time!**

 **-TheGoldStandard**


	2. Chapter 2: Clash of Titans

"I'm not sure how much longer I can bear it, Lydia," Kjord muttered, groaning as his housecarl massaged the stress from his shoulders. Sitting in the central living space of Breezehome next to a roaring fire, the Dragonborn leaned over the back of a chair while Lydia's kneading hands dug into his tight muscles through his simple tunic and loosened them the best she could.

"It'll work itself out, eventually," she hummed, grinding her palm into his spine.

"General Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak are the most difficult and stubborn people I've ever had the pain of meeting," Kjord sighed, tossing the newly-arrived letters onto a nearby table. "I feel like I'm dealing with children."

"I wish Balgruuf would be more trusting of you," Lydia exhaled, scratching Kjord's scalp the way he liked.

"He's got all of Whiterun to worry about," Kjord shrugged. "With the war escalating as it has, I'm surprised that the city hasn't already been invaded."

"You've got all of Skyrim to worry about," Lydia asserted, rubbing the Dragonborn's temples with delicate fingers. "If we're going to go after Alduin in _Sovngarde_ , the very least these people could do is _try_ to be helpful."

"I'll just have to figure out a way to get them both talking," Kjord stated, closing his eyes as the pressure eased from his head. "Once the Legion and the Stormcloaks stop fighting, I'll be able to handle things from there."

"See, that's what bothers me," Lydia muttered. "Even after you solve everyone else's problems, the burden is still on you to solve your own. These people need to understand that you can only do so much. You can't be everywhere at once. That's probably why you haven't been sleeping well. The stress is too much for one person to bear."

"I don't know what else to do," Kjord shrugged. "Whether it's by selfish intent or not, these people expect me to solve every problem that arises."

"You can't do it all alone," Lydia sighed, gently raking her nails across his back.

"I know," Kjord agreed. "I'm just not sure who else to turn to. You're the only person that helps relieve my burdens."

" _Our_ burdens," Lydia corrected, patting him on the head. "I think it would do you some good just to get away from it all for a moment. You should try to find something to help you take your mind off the troubles of the world."

"You know what?" Kjord smirked, suddenly standing up. "You're absolutely right."

"And just what do you think you're doing?" Lydia scoffed, taking a few steps back as she caught sight of the mischievous grin on the Dragonborn's face.

"I've found something to help me keep my mind off the troubles of the world," he chuckled, sliding a chair out of the way as he gradually advanced on his housecarl.

"You need to keep your distance," Lydia warned, her green eyes growing almost as wide as her smile as she slowly began sliding back across the wooden floor. "It's almost time for lunch, and I still haven't gone to the marketplace for food, yet."

"The marketplace will still be there in an hour," Kjord shrugged, a predatory gleam in his eye.

"Stay away from me!" Lydia giggled, grabbing a chair and holding it outwards in defense. Though she feigned resistance, Kjord noticed that she wasn't making any real attempt to get away. Without warning, he lunged forward and grabbed the legs of the chair in Lydia's hands. She struggled with him mightily for several seconds, but eventually, Kjord's superior strength pried the wooden seat from her grip. Setting the chair down just behind him, Kjord set out at a faster pace, playfully chasing Lydia around the central living room of Breezehome. Lydia lifted the skirt of her green, woolen dress and ducked about the house, slipping just beyond Kjord's grip on more than one occasion. After a few seconds of turmoil, however, Kjord managed to catch his housecarl at the back of the house.

"Gotcha!" he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground.

"Put me down!" she demanded, smashing her balled fist into his thick forearm as he swung her around. Kjord placed her back on the ground and seized her wrists in his big hands, holding them high above Lydia's head. Stretched out as she was, Lydia was unable to do anything but follow along as Kjord dragged her to the back wall and pinned her wrists high above her head.

"Why do you always have to make things difficult?" Kjord grinned, planting a single kiss on Lydia's forehead.

"Oh, _I'm_ the one making things difficult?" Lydia snorted, her green eyes burrowing holes into Kjord's mischievous gaze. "If only the women of Whiterun knew what a monster I come home to at night."

"They might be jealous," Kjord murmured, planting another kiss on Lydia's neck. The brunette inhaled deeply at the gentle contact, squirming a little in Kjord's grip as he pressed his body into hers.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"Akatosh, help me," Kjord muttered, gazing frustratedly at the wooden doorway on the other side of the cozy home.

"I mean, you don't _have_ to answer," Lydia suggested, waggling her eyebrows. "Nobody can be sure that you're home. Maybe they'll think you've left in the night."

"With my luck, Jarl Balgruuf himself is standing outside the door, right now," Kjord chuckled, leaning in the direction of a nearby table. Without releasing his tight grip on Lydia's hands, Kjord hefted a razor-sharp steel dagger into his palm and buried the sharp blade into the wall. Lydia flinched as the vibrations shook the house and glanced up to see what he'd done. Kjord stepped away from the wall, leaving Lydia pinned by the sleeves to her current position.

"You rock-breaker!" she whined, tugging at the knife, "I just got this dress yesterday!"

"I'll buy you a new one," Kjord chuckled, sliding a finger up her jawline. "For now, you just wait here. I'll be back in a minute."

"By the Divines," Lydia murmured, rolling her eyes as Kjord strolled to the front door of Breezehome. Grabbing the iron handle and pulling the wooden door open, Kjord was surprised to find Tyber Onteron standing outside with a nervous expression on his features.

"Tyber?" Kjord frowned, stepping out into the bright Skyrim morning. "What can I do for you? Is something wrong?"

"There is a great disturbance in the Force," Tyber nodded.

"There's… what?" Kjord sighed, raising a hand to cover his eyes under the high Skyrim sun. Not even midday and there was already something weird happening.

"I can sense great darkness in motion," Tyber answered, glancing warily at the sky. "Something horrible is descending on this city, though I don't know what it is."

"Something horrible?" Kjord frowned, glancing around the city streets. Down the road, the Whiterun marketplace hummed with activity just as it did every day. A few children played games of tag throughout the city, running from house to house. Whiterun's guards stood at their posts with the usual lethargy that occupied their daily lives. All in all, the city _looked_ the same as any other day.

Kjord's eyes moved to scan the horizon, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Turning to the west, the Dragonborn couldn't help but feel a slight tremor of frustration in his bones. The city was perfectly safe, to his eyes. Tyber wasn't even twenty-four hours removed from a plummet from the heavens themselves. He was probably just feeling anxious.

"Listen," Kjord murmured, being very careful to keep the sharpness out of his tone, "I'm swamped at the moment and- "

"There!" Tyber shouted, pointing a finger to the western skyline. Kjord swung around and followed Tyber's extended arm to focus on a point in the mountain range beyond the Western Watchtower. After a few seconds, a large, black mass rose over the distant mountains like a fog over fresh water, soaring on the wind.

"Dragon!" Kjord gasped, turning back to the door of Breezehome. "Tyber, go warn the Jarl to get into Dragonsreach's cellar! On the double!"

"You've got it!" Tyber nodded, turning and sprinting off in the direction of the Cloud District. Kjord swung the door of Breezehome open and stumbled through the main room as he rushed for the stairs leading to the second story of the house.

"Kjord?" Lydia frowned, listening to the sound of frantic rummaging above her head. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Dragon, flying over the Western Watchtower as we speak," Kjord grunted, hoisting his ebony bow over his shoulders and clasping the quiver of matching, razor-sharp arrows to his belt. "Tyber somehow knew it was coming before it even appeared over the mountains."

"A d-dragon?" Lydia sputtered. "What dragon would be mad enough to come here, where the _Dragonborn_ takes up permanent residence? Is it Alduin?"

"This dragon isn't big enough to be Alduin," Kjord answered, strapping his thick shield over his left arm and ripping his dragonbone sword from its scabbard. The Dragonborn glanced at the suit of Nordic armor on the wall of his bedroom with a twinge of regret before rushing from the room and down the stairs. There would be no time to put on any kind of armor with the dragon so close. Kjord rushed to Breezehome's front door and wrenched it open with a squeal of protest from its iron hinges; rushing out into the city.

"Kjord!" The large Nord stumbled to a halt on his own doorstep, pushing the door back open and frowning in confusion at his housecarl.

"What?" he inquired, shaking his head as if to ask what the problem was.

"I'm still _nailed to the wall_ , you big troll!" Lydia reminded him, waggling her wrists above her head. Kjord glanced at the dagger buried into the wood between her wrists and sheepishly exhaled in embarrassment. Quietly crossing the house, Kjord grabbed hold of the dagger's thick handle and jerked it from the wall.

"That's better," Lydia grinned, appreciatively rubbing her hands together as the blood rushed back into her arms. "Now, go kill that dragon! Force it down outside of the walls! I'll join you in a minute!"

"Right!" Kjord nodded, stumbling back through the house and out the open door.

The city of Whiterun had fallen into turmoil by the time Kjord finally left Breezehome with his weapons. Civilians rushed all over the city in a panic. Mothers dragged their children by the arm into every home and shop with an open door, desperate to find shelter. Husbands stood in the city streets and brandished iron swords, calling out the names of their wives and searching the crowd for their loved ones' faces. Guards rushed to their defensive posts as carts overturned in the chaos, some still buckling weapons and armor as they went.

"Where are you, big guy?' Kjord murmured, searching the skyline for any sign of the black leviathan.

"Kjordnarok!" Swirling around, the Dragonborn met the eyes of Commander Caius, captain of Whiterun's guard.

"Caius!" Kjord shouted, apologizing as he nearly ran over a young woman on his way to the commander's position. "Where's the dragon?"

"Circling around to the east!" the older man answered. Kjord spun around to face the eastern wall of the city and was immediately greeted with the sight of a vast, spiked, black dragon lining up a low pass over the city.

"There you are," Kjord grinned, sprinting down the street in the dragon's direction. The colossal serpent floated down on the cold, morning breeze and opened its jaws wide before uttering a massive blast of fire from its mouth.

" _Yol, Toor, Shul_!"

" _Fo, Krah, Diin_!" Kjord shouted, an enormous blizzard of frost bursting from his lips and rushing upward to meet the dragon's Thuum. The two forces collided in midair over the city street, exploding in a blast of intense heat and bitter cold. Several plumed of flame and ice splintered from the explosion and pock-marked the city below, none causing any significant damage. The dragon roared as it soared over Kjord's head, swirling to the south for another pass.

"Oh, no, you don't," Kjord murmured, standing tall and inhaling deeply. " _Joor, Zah, Frul_!"

Instantly, Dragonrend, the deadly curse given to him by the ancient Nord heroes, screamed forth from his lips, warping the very fabric of time and nature as it flew through the air. The great, ugly shout slammed into the dragon with enormous force, nearly blasting it from the sky. Weakened by the sudden onrush of dreadful mortality, the dragon roared in anger and stubbornly descended outside the city walls, just to the south. Kjord ran through the city streets with a victorious glint in his eye, not even noticing Lydia as she stumbled from Breezehome, still in a desperate fight to buckle her armor plates together. The Dragonborn clambered onto the city's southern wall and simply leaped from the top, falling to the grassy plain below and standing easily on his feet. Lydia rushed to the edge of the wall and glared at her thane as he confidently strolled towards the dragon, knowing that if she attempted to make the same leap, she would break both of her legs.

"I guess I'll just use the gate, then," she sighed, running towards the main entrance of Whiterun.

"Hail, _Dovah_!" Kjord called, sliding his sword back into its sheath as he walked easily across the grassy field. "Tell me your name!"

"I will oblige you, _Dovahkiin_ ," the dragon answered, taking a more comfortable stance. "I am Zulvulhah. I have traveled across the skies of _Keizaal_ for many days to taste of your _Thu'um_."

"Satisfied?" Kjord grinned, placing his hands on his hips.

"Indeed," Zulvulhah hummed, a bit amused to be having such polite conversation with his enemy. "When I learned the location of your home, I decided to come and test your voice myself. Let us see which of us has truly mastered the art of _Tiinvak_. If your _Thu'um_ is as powerful as the other _Dov_ attest, you should not need your weapons to defeat me."

"Very well," Kjord agreed, tossing his sword and shield to either side, each clattering to the ground with a rattle of metal and rock. "Let's see who's voice rings louder."

* * *

Tyber rushed through Whiterun's streets on his way to the southern wall of the city, kicking up dirt as he flew down the city's sloped landscape. The town was now entirely deserted, to the outward eye. All of the city's residents were now hidden away, safely sheltered in the city's many buildings and homes. Near the middle of the Plains District, Tyber crossed several lines of melting ice and piles of smoking ash, scattered all throughout the street.

Tyber arrived at the southern wall of the city to find most of the city's guards standing about and gazing excitedly over the city's southern landscape. Tyber placed two hands on the bricks of the wall and followed the guards' gleeful eyes to the sight of Kjord and Zulvulhah engaging in a huge contest of strength that shook the city with every shout. Lydia, clearly feeling wildly uncomfortable at the thought of just standing by as her thane went into battle alone, shuffled nervously behind a nearby rock. Tyber himself considered joining the fray, but something stopped him at the last moment. Something was drastically wrong. Tyber could feel the Force flowing powerfully between the two titans as they sent volleys of fire and ice at one another. The crude, ugly power displayed by both combatants felt strange to Tyber's highly trained and delicate sense of how the Force ought to behave and feel.

" _Ven, Gaar, Nos_!" Zulvulhah bellowed, a massive cyclone of wind barreling out of his jaws and ripping up the ground as it flew toward Kjord.

" _Lok, Vah Koor_!" Kjord shouted in reply, the force of his shout clearing the whirling cyclone into a gentle breeze. Tyber couldn't help but notice that even the distant clouds gradually faded away in response to the Dragonborn's call. Even so, the shouts were deafeningly loud, and the surrounding bystanders all covered their ears each time a shout came flying from the lips or jaws of the two dueling opponents.

Just then, Tyber noticed a second strange shape on the air, flying high above the city to the west. A dragon, Tyber realized. The Jedi reached his hand to the sky and closed his eyes, peering out with the Force and trying to identify the nature of this second beast. Sure enough, he felt the same kind of warped power radiating from the incoming monster as he did the first.

"Another hostile dragon," he murmured, glancing around at the nearby guards. Distracted by the battle to the south of the city, none of the soldiers had noticed the second beast gliding ever closer to the wooden town. Tyber opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. These people were staying inside the city for a reason. Tyber guessed that these private guards felt that fighting a dragon was beyond them, somehow; a matter reserved for a select few. At the moment, however, the 'select few' was currently in combat with a dragon already. Kjord might have a difficult time protecting the city from _both_ dragons at the same time.

"I'll just see what the newcomer wants myself, then," Tyber smirked, stepping back from the city's wall and running to the west. Tyber leaped into the air, using the Force to propel himself onto the nearest rooftop. Instantly, his foot crunched through the straw on the top of the house, and his entire leg nearly slid into the sudden gap. Catching himself awkwardly, Tyber found a more stable foothold on a wooden beam and glanced ruefully at the neat, leg-sized hole in the roof of the small cottage. Hopefully, the damage wasn't that serious and could be repaired by the house's owner.

Tyber continued his bounding jumps over the entire city, crossing the distance with exceptional quickness and urgency. Arriving just on the edge of the western walls, Tyber dropped onto the small cliff overlooking the vast open plains to the west of Whiterun. The dragon was now much closer, though it hadn't noticed the waiting Jedi just yet. Reaching out with the Force and calling to the strange dragon, Tyber decided to change that. Instantly, he could feel the dragon's internal response to his call as it adjusted course. The invitation had been received, and the dragon curiously touched down just outside the city, tilting its head to the side as it examined the strange human before it.

"I do not recognize the power of the _Thu'um_ within you," the silver beast stated, speaking more to himself than to Tyber. "Yet, you are not simply another of the _joore_ who lack the power of the _sos_ , the blood. Tell me your name."

"Tyber Onteron," the Jedi respectfully nodded.

"A silly name," the dragon scoffed.

"It's a little silly," Tyber shrugged. "Hear me, though. This city has been good to me. It's under my protection. I advise that you leave now, or face your own destruction."

"Hah!" the dragon chuckled, growling in unexpected malicious pleasure. "A petty threat."

"What is your answer?" Tyber demanded.

"Here is my answer, _joor_ ," the dragon rumbled, opening his jaws wide. " _Fus, Ro, Dah_!"

Immediately, a massive burst of power and energy surged through the air, shaking the very ground as it passed. Tyber raised a hand and inhaled deeply, quickly gathering the Force around himself before pushing against the dragon's massive shout with all his strength. The mighty shout felt almost endless in power, and Tyber strained with all his might as he called on the Force with a greater fervency, pushing back against the unrelenting power with his entire being. Instantly, the shout met an unmovable wall of resistance, and the immense rush of energy fizzled out harmlessly; well short of Tyber's position. The dragon almost seemed to frown in confusion as Tyber gently leaped down to his level.

"Now then," Tyber smirked, drawing the lightsaber from his belt and activating it in a hum of bright green light, "I'll give you one last chance. Leave."

"I will not be ordered about by a worm standing in the filth of his own wretched _qalos_ ," the dragon growled, flapping his wings in a fury.

"You leave me no choice, then," Tyber sighed, leaping into the fray as the dragon rose into the air and let loose another shout.

* * *

Kjord stood from his weary crouch, laughing heartily with Zulvlhah as the dragon re-centered himself on top of his small hill. The two opponents stood across a field of total devastation, the ground ripped up and ruined by uncountable shouts. Lydia's eyebrows creased together in complete confusion as she watched the two prepare for another exchange of power. Kjord and Zulvulhah were _actually_ enjoying themselves, something that confused Lydia to no end. She didn't see what was so enjoyable about a life-and-death duel with a flying lizard twenty times your size. Suddenly, Zulvulhah stopped laughing and turned his head to the skies, as if looking for something.

"Might I have a momentary respite, _Dovahkiin_?" he requested.

"I don't see why not," Kjord shrugged, placing his hands on his hips. "Why do you ask?"

"Another _dov_ was to join me today," Zulvulhah explained. "He was younger than I and was to be the witness of this _tey,_ this tale. He has not arrived."

"I felt the power of the Thu'um nearby," Kjord replied, turning and facing the city with a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps he'll show his head in a few moments."

Just then, a large, warped object flew into the sky, high over the city. Kjord and Lydia glanced at one another before squinting a bit closer at the soaring shadow as it began slowly began to descend. The strange object screamed towards the ground with immense power, smashing into the dirt between Zulvulhah and Kjord and sending up plumes of earth and dust. After a few moments, the rubble and dust were blown away by a gentle breeze, revealing a silver dragon's skull cut neatly at the base of the neck and lying motionless on the ground.

"No pun intended," Kjord murmured, frowning deeply at this sudden development. Without a word, Tyber suddenly landed a few paces away to Kjord's right, standing tall and confident, without any sign of injury.

"Did I miss anything?" the Jedi asked, brushing the dust from his robes and holding his lightsaber in hand.

"Did you kill that dragon, Tyber?" Kjord inquired, staring at the hollow skull in shock.

"It didn't give much choice," Tyber nodded. "Funny thing happened right after, though- "

"What treachery is this?" Zulvulhah growled, stomping a bit closer to the lifeless skull before him. "Goraanmeyaar was to be a spectator, nothing more!"

"He started it," Tyber protested, pointing accusingly at his former opponent's severed skull.

"One should not take the life of a _dovah_ with such a lack of _zin_. A lack of honor."

"I took no joy in his death," Tyber responded. "I would have seen him off in one piece and alive if he'd relented."

"I'll see you in pieces, _joor_ ," Zulvulhah growled. " _Yol, Toor, Shul!"_

Instantly, an enormous swathe of flame roared forth from the dragon's open jaws and rumbled across the open field. Kjord took a breath to shout in return, moving in between Tyber and the incoming blast. However, just before he loosed a blast of freezing ice to counteract Zulvulhah's seeping inferno, Tyber raised a hand into the air. Instantly, the deadly column of fire came to a complete stop and flew vertically into the sky, fanning out and dissipating harmlessly into the air. Kjord glanced back at the Jedi in surprise as Tyber stepped forward and activated his lightsaber. The metal cylinder in his palm hummed to life in a flush of green as a column of light slid from the handle.

Kjord!" Lydia called, throwing the Dragonborn's sword through the air. Kjord stepped out and caught his preferred weapon in one hand, standing by Tyber's side as Zulvulhah's flapping wings kicked up clouds of dust into the air.

"Thanks!" Kjord answered. "Get inside the walls! This dragon is a little too old for you to be of any help!"

"He's taking off, again," Tyber warned, watching Lydia as she obediently, if a bit disappointedly, run off in the direction of Whiterun's main gate.

"No, he's not," Kjord murmured, taking a deep breath of air and eying his target. " _Joor, Zah, Frul_!" Zulvulhah's body, just recovered from Kjord's previous Dragonrend shout, was once more rocked by fatigue and sluggishness as the onrush of mortality overcame him. Growling in anger as his wings grew heavy and his scales weighed him down, the dragon landed on a nearby ledge and turned to face his opponents as they rushed forth. Tyber leaped into the air with startling force, flying high over Kjord's head and angling his lightsaber downward as he spiraled towards Zulvulhah at high speed. He grunted in pain as the dragon swept his tail through the air and smacked Tyber right out of the sky, sending the Jedi tumbling across the ground and into a tangle of branches and bushes.

" _Fus, Ro, Dah_!" Kjord shouted, blasting Zulvulhah's distracted body with a roaring wall of power, staggering the enormous dragon. Zulvulhah quickly counterattacked, snapping at Kjord with his immense jaws. Kjord swept his heavily enchanted sword across the muzzle of his enemy, earning a mighty roar of pain from the colossal leviathan.

" _Liz, Slen, Nus!_ " Zulvulhah bellowed, coating Kjord in a layer of ice at point-blank range. The Dragonborn tumbled onto his back, suddenly helpless. Zulvulhah stood over Kjord's motionless form and inhaled deeply, preparing to blast the Dragonborn with a shout that would end it all.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Tyber shouted, reaching out with the Force and seizing hold of Zulvulhah's body, yanking the giant dragon in his direction. Suddenly pulled to his left by an unseen hand, Zulvulhah growled in confusion as his body lurched to the side. Tyber launched from the ground once more, flying high into the air over Zulvulhah's head. The dragon turned and swung his tail at the Jedi again, but this time, Tyber was ready.

Zulvulhah roared in pain as his tail was severed at its midway point, the severed half falling to the ground with a thick, sickly thud. Tyber raised a hand toward Kjord's motionless form, using the Force to fracture the icy shell surrounding his body. The bearded Nord huffed in relief as his icy prison shattered into a thousand pieces, shivering slightly as he quickly rose and seized his sword from the ground.

" _Krii, Lun Aus_!" Kjord shouted, blasting Zulvulhah's body with a dreadful curse, draining his life energy and weakening the dragon's scales. Zulvulhah, realizing that the battle was quickly turning against him, swung around to face the Dragonborn, reeling back to strike with his immense jaws. Tyber swept underneath the dragon's body, severing Zulvulhah's left wing from his body with one swipe of his lightsaber. Suddenly crippled, the dragon collapsed onto his side, roaring in pain and scrabbling in the dust. Kjord leaped onto Zulvulhah's head and rammed his enchanted sword into the dragon's eye with all of his might, screaming in fury. The point of his sword slid deeply into Zulvulhah's head, and the dragon writhed intensely for several moments, nearly crushing the two men under the weight of its entire body.

After several moments of struggling, however, Zulvulhah's strength began to leave him, and his movements gradually became slower and weaker. Tyber stood by the dragon's head with Kjord, his green lightsaber poised over Zulvulhah's neck, but Kjord shook his head to discourage the death blow. It would be better to let him remain in as many pieces as possible if Kjord was to harvest any bones from Zulvulhah's body, and he didn't want anything to go to waste out of respect for his opponent. Seconds later, Zulvulhah's resistance ceased, and he silently eased into death.

"May you be one with the Force," Tyber murmured, deactivating his lightsaber and returning it to the buckle on his hip. "That's done with."

"Not yet," Kjord corrected, pulling his sword from Zulvulhah's motionless head and taking several steps back. Sure enough, just as every slain dragon had for three years, Zulvulhah's body began to gradually glow a warm, golden hue, and wisps of purple and blue light started whirling around his entire frame. Several tendrils of light stretched from Zulvulhah to swirl around Kjord's body, slowly enveloping him in a whirlwind of warmth. Kjord inhaled deeply as he felt the Zulvulhah's name and power rush through his veins as the dragon's soul was absorbed into his very being.

Without a word, Tyber extended his hand and reached out with the Force, drawing some of the strange light unto himself. He could sense the power coursing through it as he pulled it into his own body; raw and untampered. He frowned deeply as he felt the Force move vigorously through his blood, full of life and vigor. The name Zulvulhah passed through his mind on a loop as memories, not of his own making, played in his mind. The Jedi's eyebrows shot up in astonishment. Tyber knew the dragons' connection to the living Force was strong, but to pass on one's very life essence, knowledge, and power to other force-sensitive beings? It was unlike anything he'd ever seen.

"That's… incredible," Tyber breathed, oblivious to the open-jawed expression on Kjord's face.

"You just… absorbed part of that dragon's soul," Kjord murmured, completely flabbergasted.

"I don't think it was the dragon's _soul_ , per se," Tyber grimaced.

"Are you boys alright?" Lydia inquired, strolling easily to Kjord's side. "That was a heck of a fight."

"We're fine," Tyber smiled, his face bright and innocent. Lydia turned to face Kjord's troubled face and frowned considerably.

"Something the matter?" she asked. Kjord glanced back at Tyber as the Jedi began poking around the dragon's skeleton. Seeing that Tyber was distracted, he grabbed Lydia by the arm and pulled her urgently to the side, where Tyber wouldn't be able to hear them. Tyber smirked to himself. He was all too aware of the Dragonborn's troubled state and knew the following conversation would be about himself, in some form or fashion. Still, he decided to let the man be as he dragged his housecarl several paces away. There was little sense in troubling the man any farther.

"What's wrong?" Lydia questioned, pulling her arm from Kjord's grip after the pair passed behind a large tree. "What's gotten into you?"

"I… I don't understand," Kjord sighed, rubbing his head and pacing fervently in a strict circle. "Tyber… he just…"

"Slow down," Lydia urged him, grabbing hold of the frantic Dragonborn and placing a hand on his cheek. "Just take a second to breathe."

"Tyber… just _stole_ half of that dragon's soul from me," Kjord enunciated, placing his hands on his head in disbelief. "He just reached out and took it from the air as if I wasn't even present."

"Kjord?" Jarl Balgruuf called, walking toward the Dragonborn flanked by more than a dozen guards. Irileth strolled warily alongside him, glaring at the giant skeleton atop the hill. In the distance, Whiterun's citizens slowly began poking their curious heads over the walls to get a better look at the two ruined dragons and the heroes responsible for their destruction.

"Jarl Balgruuf," Kjord nodded, a bit too stressed and confused for formal proceedings.

"I take it these two dragons are dead?" Balgruuf inferred, glancing at the dragon skeleton a short distance up the hill from where he stood.

"As usual, Kjord saved the day again, with Tyber's help," Lydia answered, speaking for her thane as he took several deep breaths to ease his agitated nerves. Jarl Balgruuf raised an eyebrow at the Dragonborn's uncharacteristically bothered reaction.

"I'd like a more comprehensive report in Dragonsreach when you have the time."

"Of course," Lydia nodded. "I'll be sure he gets there."

Balgruuf nodded his approval and walked farther up the hill towards the dragon's remains. At the crest of the hill, Tyber experimentally rapped his knuckles against the skeleton's skull, frowning considerably. The dragon's scales and bones weren't any thicker than he's expected, but their density was tremendous. Patterned, interlocking lines crossed each and every scale, creating a matte of nearly unbreakable resistance. Tyber shuddered at the thought of dealing with such creatures with little more than archaic technology. Even his lightsaber didn't cut through the dragon's body as cleanly as Tyber was accustomed to.

"Tyber?" The Jedi turned around and smiled at Jarl Balgruuf as the bearded nobleman approached, stepping down to clasp his arm. Irileth and Balgruuf's guards fanned out around their lord, curiously glancing at the massive dragon skeleton a short distance away.

"Kjord and Lydia say that you aided in the death of this dragon," Jarl Balgruuf stated.

"I was just here to help," Tyber shrugged.

"None of that, now," Balgruuf insisted. "I've half a mind to give you half the city as repayment for your help."

"The shelter and food I've been provided are enough," Tyber assured him, politely declining the Jarl's offer. "I don't ask for anything more than the generosity I've already been granted."

"If you wish," Balgruuf nodded, suitably impressed by Tyber's startling level of humility. "At the very least, let me offer you my most sincere thanks for your help, today. Kjord rarely goes into battle without Lydia at his side. When I saw her waiting in the city, I knew his opponent must have been powerful."

"More than you know," Tyber smirked, waving farewell at Balgruuf as the nobleman turned back for Whiterun's gates. In the distance, the city was slowly returning to business, with little structural or material damage inside the walls. Already, echoes of babbling conversation and excited whispers emanated over the plains surrounding the city. Tyber smiled to himself. At least the people of Whiterun would be at peace, for the time being.

* * *

"Peace, Kjord," Balgruuf urged, rising from his throne to calm the Dragonborn's frustrated pacing. Dragonreach's floorboards creaked under Kjord's feet as the large Nord circled the main chamber in frustration, making several laps around the fireplace in the center of the hall. Irileth, Proventus, and Lydia all stood by in respectful silence as the Jarl tried his best to console his old friend.

"How can I be at peace with the images to today's battle cascading in my mind?" Kjord huffed, placing his hands on his hips.

"Tyber did nothing wrong, to my understanding."

"That's beside the point!" Kjord asserted. "That man is not of the mortal realm! He can't be! How else would he make things twice his size float through the air without touching them? It's beyond anything I've seen!"

"Is that all?" Balgruuf frowned, returning to sit at his throne.

"Not in the least!" Kjord answered, shaking his head fervently. "Dragons are the most dangerous beings in Tamriel for a reason that goes beyond their inborn power to shout!"

"Their scales," Lydia interjected.

"Exactly!" Kjord nodded, snapping an appreciative finger in his housecarl's direction. "Their armor is nearly impenetrable. None but the sharpest and most heavily enchanted weapons will injure a dragon. Tyber, however, wields a weapon that cuts through dragon scales as easily as you might sweep your finger through Whiterun's cool streams."

"Aye, the guards mentioned that he made use of some 'glowing sword of light' or other," Irileth sighed. "They described his weapon exactly the same as Kjord."

"That's not all!" Kjord interrupted. "At the end, when I stood back and readied myself to receive the dragon's soul, Tyber reached out and _stole_ half of it from me!"

"What do you mean?" Balgruuf frowned, leaning forward at the Dragonborn's words. "How can one steal a dragon soul?"

"I don't know," Kjord stated, raising his hands in exasperation.

"Maybe he's some kind of fallen Daedra?" Lydia suggested. She also entertained the thought that Tyber might be another Dragonborn, but she kept it to herself while Kjord was in such a fuss.

"It might be so," Balgruuf mused, fingering his chin. "His level of humility and selflessness would be a bit uncharacteristic for a Daedra, to my understanding, though."

"Whether he is a Daedra or not means nothing," Kjord insisted. "That man is not _normal_. He and I killed a dragon in minutes that should have taken the better part of an hour to wear down."

"You think he represents a danger to the city?" Proventus asked, emerging from his uneasy silence.

"I… I don't know," Kjord shrugged. "I suppose only time will tell. For now, he seems to be perfectly reasonable.

"Regardless, if he is a threat or not, I want him kept under a watchful eye," Balgruuf stated. "For now, he is our ally, and we are his benefactors. Let us try to keep things that way while we learn more about this man. I will _not_ allow my city to live in fear of this newcomer, and we must give the people no reason to think Tyber is anything else than a friend."

* * *

"There you are," Ysolda whispered, strolling out of Whiterun's main gate and into the grassy fields outside the city. The evening sunset cast long shadows on the ground as she walked under the orange and purple sky. On a hill just outside the city walls, Tyber quietly sat staring at the distant stars as they slowly became more noticeable in the darkening horizon. He wasn't close enough to hear Ysolda's words, but the Nord woman figured he was already aware of her presence.

"Been sitting there for the last hour," one of the nearby guards murmured. "He just walked up the hill and sat down without a word."

"He's just been staring at the sky for an hour?" Ysolda frowned. The guard nodded, making the warding sign against evil spirits and black magic with his left hand. The merchant woman merely rolled her eyes at the overly-superstitious man and walked up the path to Tyber's hill. Lifting the edge of her blue wool dress, Ysolda slowly walked up the lazy slope, ready to step right back down should Tyber demand some time to himself. The Jedi turned to face her and smiled warmly.

"I figured it was you," he stated, patting the ground next to him with an open hand. Ysolda graciously accepted his invitation and sat in the indicated spot, smoothing her dress out with one hand.

"People have been talking about you all day," she stated, brushing a strand of hair out of his ear. "The guards say you cut the dragon in half with one swing of your… weapon… thing."

"Lightsaber," Tyber smirked, rubbing his neck. "Barely half a rotation and already people are exaggerating things."

"Whiterun really doesn't get a lot of excitement, especially since Kjord arrived," Ysolda shrugged. "Dragons don't normally come around here. People don't normally fall out of the sky and then fight said dragons the following day, either."

"I was hoping to avoid being the center of attention," Tyber chuckled. "I'd prefer to remain in the background and be unnoticed."

"Well, you are _awful_ at it," Ysolda giggled. "People are starting to say that you're even more powerful than Kjord."

"I don't know if that's entirely true," Tyber snorted. "How is the big guy, anyway?"

"He and Lydia returned home from Dragonsreach a few hours ago," Ysolda answered, plucking a wildflower from the ground and holding it in her slender fingers. "They both seemed fine, to my eye."

"I'm glad to hear that," Tyber nodded.

"Can… can I ask you something?" Ysolda inquired, cocking her head at the Jedi.

"Certainly."

"I've seen you staring at the sky quite a bit since you arrived here," Ysolda stated. "I was just wondering what's on your mind. Are you waiting for someone to come and rescue you?"

"No," Tyber sighed. "Most of the people who'd come to rescue me are dead."

"Oh…" Ysolda hummed, sensing she'd stumbled onto a sore nerve. "I'm… I'm sorry."

"For what?" Tyber smirked, pushing the emotional weight from his eyes. "You didn't do anything wrong. Truth be told, I am wondering if someone will come looking for me, here."

"Would that be a… bad thing?" Ysolda asked, crossing her arms as a chill breeze fluttered over the grassy plain.

"I can almost guarantee that it would be," Tyber nodded.

"Well, surely you could defeat them, right?" Ysolda smiled encouragingly. "You helped Kjord kill _two_ dragons, after all. I'll bet you can defeat most anything."

"There are more dangerous enemies than dragons," Tyber shrugged, smiling with a light that never reached his eyes. "Now, I can tell that you've come here with a purpose in mind, right?"

"Oh! I'd almost forgotten!" Ysolda grinned, reaching into a small pouch at her hip. Pulling out a handful of straw and wooden splinters, the tall redhead placed the scraps in Tyber's hand and giggled as a single eyebrow shot into the air.

"I'm not following you, at all," he admitted. "What is this?"

"It's straw and timber from my roof," Ysolda smirked. "There's a leg-sized hole in it, and I think you might have an idea of who's responsible."

"I… might have had something to do with that," Tyber sheepishly admitted. "I'll come to help you fix it."

"Not tonight," Ysolda corrected. "It's going to be a bit cold for roof work. I'll throw a cloth over it for now, and you can come to help me in the morning."

"I can do that," Tyber agreed. Ysolda nodded her appreciation and stood upright, stretching her legs and back for a brief moment as the sun dropped lower in the sky.

"Alright, let's get to work," she hummed, reaching down and offering Tyber her hand.

"I thought we weren't going to start until tomorrow?" Tyber frowned, glancing uncertainly at her gloved palm.

"I need someone to give me a boost while I plug the hole for the night," Ysolda smirked. Tyber smiled widely and took Ysolda's offered hand, rising to his feet. As the two walked back towards Whiterun's main gate together, a great gust of cold air blew through the grassy plain, sending a feverish, horrid chill up Ysolda's spine and covering her arms and legs with goosebumps. Ordinarily, she would have ignored the cold, biting wind. In a moment of shock, however, Ysolda grabbed onto Tyber's arm and huddled close to his body as she walked, wishing she had a scarf to cover the rising color in her cheeks.

If he'd asked, she'd have blamed it on the cold.

* * *

Darth Vader stood silently at the helm of the _Marauder_ , his mechanical breathing echoing throughout the Star Destroyer's bridge. Behind him, a crew of officers and operators shuffled about in relative peace, going about the quiet duty of keeping the immense ship on a steady course. In the distance, an infinite number of stars glistened like a thousand jewels in the black void of space. The burnt flesh on his underarm itched furiously, but the dark lord didn't bother reaching for it, knowing he would never be able to scratch the sensation in his suit.

"Lord Vader?" an officer inquired, standing at attention a few paces behind the imposing, cloaked figure of his commander.

"What is it, Captain Narciss?" Vader breathed, his dark voice emanating from his transfigured metal helmet.

"We have recovered the designs for the ship the Jedi escaped in," Captain Narciss stated, holding out a glowing tablet and nervously brushing his mustache back into order. Without a word, the dark lord turned and snatched the tablet from the captain's hand. He sifted through the blinking information as he turned to face the bridge's windows once more.

"This design is old," Darth Vader noted, swiping a gloved finger across the tablet's screen.

"Yes, my lord," Captain Narciss nodded. "The ship was used by the Jedi commonly until about a hundred-and-fifty years ago. Imperial intelligence recovered the schematics from the old archives of the Jedi Temple."

"If this ship was registered in the Temple's archives, it must have been brought on site for examination," Vader stated. "When was this ship last removed from the Temple?"

"Our salvage crew ran a check on the hangar's inventory and reported it missing a few days after Order 66."

"Our lost Jedi must have returned to the Jedi Temple after Order 66 was handed down," Vader mused. "He must have found the Temple in ruins and fled using a stolen starfighter. Was the grounds crew able to attach tracking devices to each ship in the Temple's hangar, as ordered, before the ship was stolen?"

"The engineers on site reported that they'd outfitted every ship the second day after Order 66," Captain Narciss answered. "Tracking devices would have been attached with plenty of time to spare."

"Contact Imperial Intelligence on Coruscant and demand the tracking device's serial number and locator frequency," Vader ordered, handing the tablet back to Captain Narciss. "Send the information to the fleets stationed along the Jedi's last known trajectory. With any luck, the device is still operational, and we can track this traitor to his hole and dig him out."

"Yes, my lord," Captain Narciss hurriedly bowed, striding fervently to the rear of the bridge and barking orders to his lieutenants.

Vader, confident that his prey would soon be found, merely turned back to his distant thoughts, staring into the cold blackness of space.

* * *

 **Hey, you guys! Thanks for taking the time to read this entry! As always, welcome back to those who already follow this story, and to those that don't I encourage you to add this to your followed stories and get email updates every time I post a new chapter! I have a lot going on with college, but I'll do my best to update every week or so! I'd appreciate any reviews on the story, and, as always, I hope you enjoy!**

 **-TheGoldStandard**


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